I bartend. My AutDHD ass hates it. It’s a very poor fit for a small townie bar, but I do well enough, usually, to not have complaints. most of my regulars even like my dry sarcasm and general no-bullshit approach. I have a degree in science communication so I can infodump my special interest… bartending is not remotely what my infodumping introvert ass wants to be doing. But I’ve been serving for years and I’ve never fucked up like this before.

Well before my shift I was so ridiculously anxious I had jelly legs. They didn’t go away when my shift started so I’m low-key convinced my body has precognition even if my brain doesn’t…

At the end of my shift I learned why my body was trying to convince me to call in today. Because I rang the wrong card, gave the card to the person… and found out hours later when I went to close out another customer.

The person who’s card I accidentally rung was irate at losing their card, and berated me for a solid 10 minutes (meanwhile I’ve never seen a turquoise card before, much less two on the same day, but I fully admit I fucked up. I own that).

I told him as soon as I realized and told him what he needs to do on his end (log in to whatever app he uses, or the website, and freeze the card, and maybe issue a temporary digital card until the new one is issued)

He called his mother after berating me, and basically rehashed all his complaints to her, incredibly loudly, over the phone. She showed up to pay for it since that was the only payment option he dude had… (she was very nice and after the dude let off some steam and his companions -and probably mother- convinced him I didn’t do it on purpose he was much nicer)

And I know I fucked up… I felt horrid for it even without the verbal assault… I cried, I’m ashamed to admit, and I am usually composed enough to not do that. Because I get it. I’d be pissed about that happening, too.

They blamed it on me being new (I’m not that new, 3 mths I just only work specific slow shifts one day a week), said the owner wouldn’t have done it (she has) and all sorts of other verbal abuse that frankly I’m not fit to take…

After they left I locked the doors and had a solid panic meltdown for like half an hour… even tho it was all handled as best we could at the time… owner wasn’t even upset, just walked me through voiding it and said shit happens.

On the plus side the anxiety cleared up as soon as the shit hit the fan… my body wanted, and got, a bad ending. Congrats body. Brain hates you right now though.